Perfect
by Darkness' Embrace
Summary: Even the strongest of us have a weakness, a part of us that isn't like the rest. They were each other's weakness, and in the end, it killed them both.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. All rights belong to J.K Rowling.**

**Warnings: The story contains thinly veiled references to domestic abuse, murder, and suicide.**

**Perfect**

What they had wasn't good, normal, or healthy. It was wrong, completely different from what it should have been. They were destructive; to themselves and to each other. They were never meant to be, and in a sense, they weren't.

Anger defined their relationship, and pain became the product of it. They fought; they screamed, they yelled, they hurt each other, and yet nothing could pull them apart. They were together, for better or for worse, and they both knew that nothing could change that, even if they wanted it to. What they had was impervious, indestructible.

They had pushed each other to the limit, pushed themselves past the point of no return. No matter how hard they tried, there was that force inside them, that one part of them that made them stop just before they broke, that made them draw back before all was lost. But in the end, even that wasn't enough.

They were different, too different. She was strong. She fought for what she believed in, and she refused to back down. She represented everything that was good in the world, everything that was true and normal. She always did the right thing, every single time.

Yet, there was one exception, only one thing that fit in to her life that couldn't be placed in to one of the carefully organized categories, the only thing that didn't fit in to the box that she forced everything in to, even herself, the only thing that didn't fit in to the box that was her life.

That exception was him.

He was the only aspect of her that was fearless, that one broke through all of her iron defences, the only section of her that just didn't care. He was the only part of her that was bad, the only thing that ruined her flawlessness; he stripped everything away until there was nothing left.

He was weak; a coward. He made mistakes, too many mistakes, and he had paid dearly for each one. He had bought in to it, believed the darkness, accepted it in to his life, and now he couldn't escape.

The evil consumed him, it smothered him until he was a part of it, until he could no longer distinguish between himself, and what he used to be. It all melded together, the evil, and the few remnants of good that remained. He forced them together until they were gone too.

It was just another mistake, but this one cost him more, something he couldn't get back. His humanity was taken with that last mistake, the one big mistake that defined his life.

She was the only thing that wasn't wrong, the only thing that wasn't bad in his life. She was the only part of him that wasn't a mistake.

She hated him, and he hated her just as much. That hate defined what they had, defined everything about them. Their devotion was like a single candle compared to the raging fire that was their hate. For them, the line between love and hate wasn't thin or small, it was so large and all consuming that just taking one step to begin the journey seemed impossible, utterly unachievable.

And it was. They would have liked to think that they were soul mates, that one would lay down their life for the other. In his mindless delusions, and her childish daydreams, their relationship was a fairytale, something beautiful and wholesome. But it wasn't, and the fact was blatantly and painfully obvious.

They lived in the grey area, teetering on the edge of the large stone wall separating love and hate, where falling in either direction would mean certain death. It was hard, existing in such a barren place, but they had to, because in the middle of nothing was the only place they could be together.

They didn't love each other. They didn't even like each other. They didn't need or want each other. If one day she simply turned around and walked away, he wouldn't follow her, and she wouldn't follow him. They wouldn't blame each other, because after all, what they had was an abomination, something that shouldn't exist.

But they couldn't. They couldn't walk away. There was nothing holding them there, but nothing was still something, and it was enough to tether them to the ground, to tie them to each other.

It was frightening to think that they were bound there forever, that they could never leave, and that was why they fought so hard against it. Even though they knew it would never work, that the inexorably compelling feeling would never go away, they had to try.

Although he was weak and afraid, he wasn't a quitter, and neither was she. They fought against in each other in an attempt to free themselves, all the while knowing that it would never work, that their pain was wasted. They would still fight to the death.

And they did. Because now, as he sat on the wet grass in front of her grave, running his fingers over the headstone, he couldn't help but miss it. What he was missing, he didn't know, because it certainly wasn't her.

He just felt empty. The fire that used to burn through his veins was gone, he had felt it disappear as he watched the light fade from her eyes.

Everything was tied to her, no matter how hard he attempted to sever the attachment. Even though he had made sure that she was gone, it hadn't changed anything, not really.

Now as he looked back on their relationship, he could see that even with all the anger, all the hate, all the violence and pain, what they had was just what they needed.

In hindsight, he could see that it was his entire fault. There had been an unspoken agreement, an understanding that although they loathed each other, they were a part of each other.

The stone wall represented them, and they both knew the ramifications of taking everything too far. He just hadn't expected it to be like this, he hadn't thought that losing it all would hurt this much.

What they had was perfect, and he had destroyed it, he had ruined everything. He looked down at the long dagger in his hand, the dull grey colour flat and opaque. Just like him.

He knew what would happen if either one of them fell over the edge, and yet he still pushed her; he still let her fall. Raising the dagger, he admired how it glinted in the sunlight from its elevated position. He could be bright again, he just knew it. This was what it would take for him to live again.

With one swift motion, he plunged the dagger in to his heart, jumping from his perch on the large stone wall and falling with open arms in to the black abyss that lay below.

**FIN**


End file.
